


In The Night

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Series: Puppies and Babies and Kastle [2]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Babies, Baby Fic, F/M, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Fluffy, Tooth rotting fluffy, frank x karen, it's like the puppies but times 10, kastle - Freeform, kastle fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: "Yankee," she calls out, looking around. Their leashes remain on the hooks beside the door, so Frank doesn't have them on a walk. Worry starts to sink in, until she rounds the corner into the living room and kitchen, and then she hears them. The door to the bathroom is shut, but behind it comes frantic scratching and low woofs. Frank has trained the dogs not to bark, which Karen adores most of the time. But as she opens the door and nearly bowled over by the dogs, she wonders if something is seriously wrong. She catches Yankee on her crazed leap into her arms, reaching down to soothe Sierra and Charlie.When she looks up and sees Frank, wide eyed like a startled deer at her presence, she nearly drops the dog.Frank Castle is holding a sleeping baby.In which Frank Castle escalates from saving dogs to saving children and Karen Page questions her sanity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I was going to have this up like two months ago?
> 
> Real life is hard.
> 
> ANYWAYS THERE'S A PART TWO HOPE YOU ENJOY READING AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING - KASTLE FLUFF AHEAD

Karen walks up the stairs to Frank's apartment, cussing under her breath. The bag of dog food is entirely too heavy, and she knows if she would've said something to Frank, he would've picked it up. He usually does, in fact. But she is stubborn and she wants to show Frank that she is capable of caring for Charlie and Sierra and Yankee. She can haul some dog food up what feels like ten million flights of stairs. It's not that hard. Except she has her purse, her laptop bag, and she's wearing five inch heels. By the time she makes it through the door, she's sure she has to look like an absolute disaster.

  
Frank won't mind though. Frank never minds. Given the number of times one of them has shown up sweaty, bloody, in tears, raging, or worse, they've gotten into the habit of not asking any questions and accepting whatever state the other comes in. So when she throws the door to his apartment open and lets the dog food slump on the floor, she's ready for Frank to lean his head around the corner and ask her what she's thinking for dinner. She's ready for him to be freshly out of the shower - she's proud that she's gotten over the shock to her system the first time he wandered around in nothing but a towel in front of her - or to be passed out asleep on the couch with the dogs across his chest and legs.

  
When he doesn't appear, she doesn't worry. Usually she and Frank are the midst of opposite schedules; it's not uncommon for one to be running out the door while the other is coming back to collapse. He might even be at her apartment. It wouldn't be the first time they'd switched living residences. But Frank had the dogs this morning since she had to go in early, and Frank has never, ever failed to communicate to her if he's taken them elsewhere. The fact that they haven't all come running for her, eager for treats and scratches and attention is what's alarming Karen the most.

  
"Yankee," she calls out, looking around. Their leashes remain on the hooks beside the door, so Frank doesn't have them on a walk. Worry starts to sink in, until she rounds the corner into the living room and kitchen, and then she hears them. The door to the bathroom is shut, but behind it comes frantic scratching and low woofs. Frank has trained the dogs not to bark, which Karen adores most of the time. But as she opens the door and nearly is bowled over by the dogs, she wonders if something is seriously wrong. She catches Yankee on her crazed leap into her arms, reaching down to soothe Sierra and Charlie.

  
When she looks up and sees Frank, wide eyed like a startled deer at her presence, she nearly drops the dog.

  
Frank Castle is holding a sleeping baby.

  
For a long moment, words completely fail her. There's no what the hell or what the fuck or even his name, hissed in anger and frustration. There is nothing but silence, occasionally punctured with the pants of a still excited Yankee, the thump of Sierra's tail on the floor, and Charlie's nails clacking as she wanders between Frank and Karen, confused as to why neither of them are dithering over her adorable puppy face like usual. Then the baby in Frank's arms shifts, mewling, and Karen's hand flies up to her mouth.

  
"Hey, Kar," he mumbles, a little sheepish. Karen tries to say something, anything, but there's nothing. Nothing but the dogs bouncing around her feet and the tiny little hand that is opening and closing. She's not even aware that she's walking forward until she reaches him and the child. From there, it's only a gentle hand that lifts, and she softly runs one finger down the cheek of the baby. Frank stays still, allowing her this, and Karen tries to process. She's got a few questions, the most pressing being that she is not utterly unconvinced that somewhere there isn't a vehicle with a shattered window and an empty car seat.

 

"Did you steal it?" She manages to ask finally and he glances at her, affronted.

 

"Not an it. He's a boy," he answers and Karen looks up at him in astonishment.

 

"Frank, that doesn't answer the question!"

 

"Look, it's not what you think, okay?" Frank tells her, hushing the dogs. "Put them back in the bathroom. They're going to wake him up."

 

"I--" Karen wants to argue, but this moment is so bizarre all she can think to do is obey. So she finds herself scooting three very indignant dogs into the narrow bathroom and shutting the door in their faces. Then she rounds on Frank, incredulous. He's in the living room, swaying, as though there is nothing strange about the fact that he's holding a baby boy, no older than a couple months old. He's got him wrapped in a diaper and what Karen thinks might be a pair of boxers wrangled to be a shirt. Her heart clenches to see the lack of customary baby fat on his arms or legs. Karen is fully ready to fight with Frank, until he raises his eyes, so soft and in full force with pleading, puppy dog powers that all she can do is relent.

 

"I can explain," he insists, once he realizes she's not just going to turn around and walk out. Karen puts her hands on her hips to show she means business.

 

"By all means, please do."

 

"So I have this contact that--" Frank starts and Karen cuts him off with a groan.

 

"Frank!" She rubs her eyes with the heel of her hand and he waits until she's given him an exasperated look before he continues.

 

"I know a guy. He said he came across some real sketchy shit. This little man was the only one who was still alive, so he took him."

 

"And how the hell does that filter down to you?" Karen demands, striving hard to keep her voice in control.

 

"I needed some intel from him. He said he couldn't, cause he had this thing to take care of. Turns of this little man was that thing," Frank explains, hefting the baby slightly. 

 

"So you took a baby from some low life asshole and your first thought was 'Oh, I'll bring him back to my apartment where I can feed and clothe him'? Are you insane?" Karen wants to scream, but when the baby whimpers lowly, she falls silent, glaring. 

 

"What was I suppose to do, leave him with that asshole?" Frank retorts and Karen is speechless, wondering how in the hell she winds up with people with such massive hero complexes. 

 

"Frank, this is an infant we're talking about! He should be in the hospital or, or, the police station! Something!" She waves her hands to make her point. "You have to stop stealing dogs and children. You need a new hobby." 

 

"This is not a hobby Karen, this is a child's life," he reminds her and Karen desperately wants to argue further but at this point, she's not sure it's going to have any sway with Frank. "Besides, Claire gave him a clean bill of health." 

 

"Why is he not in police custody?" Karen spells out as deliberately as she can. "Why have you not put him in foster care?" 

 

"Foster care?" Frank looks at her, skeptical. "You know what they do to kids in foster care?" 

 

"Oh my god," Karen pushes her hair back with both hands. And she had thought her biggest challenge today had been the dog food. "Frank, get a blanket. We're dropping him off at the nearest precinct or firehouse. Now." 

 

"Like hell we are," Frank glares at her. "He's not going anywhere." 

 

"Frank, he's a baby," Karen gestures to him. "He's going to be fine. Foster care isn't the best choice, sure, but what's the alternative? You rising him, here, in your apartment, while you fight crime?" 

 

"I just need some time to figure out what to do," he mutters. "What if he has a family somewhere that wants him?"

 

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Karen questions furiously. "Frank, you said you got him from a slaughterhouse essentially. Where he belongs is in protective custody, where real doctors, not just Claire, can check him out and make sure that he's okay. What happens if he dies? Then what are you going to do?" 

 

"I--" Frank starts to retort, but a moment later a shrill cry silences them both. The boy in Frank's arm has been awoken by their disagreements, and is decidedly unhappy about it. He wails, using capable lungs, and the look Frank gives her can only be described as murderous. 

 

"Do you even have any bottles or formula for him?" Karen points out rather smugly and Frank hands her the baby, brushing past her into the kitchen. 

 

"What the hell kind of man you think I am, not getting any baby formula for...." Frank is annoyed with her, grumbling as he disappears.

 

"No, I--" Karen starts to protest, but Frank pays her no heed. She looks down in astonishment at the screaming child in her arms, flustered. She hasn't held a child in years. With her brother only being a few years younger than her, Karen has no memories of them together until they're well into childhood. She doesn't have any cousins, nor did she have the standard teen years where she spent weekends and nights babysitting. She doesn't have a whole lot of experience when it comes to this, so she stares down at the little boy in what feels like creeping terror.

  
  
He shouldn't be so scary, she thinks idly. He's a tiny little thing, with smooth tan skin and a few stray wisps of dark black hair across his forehead. When he cries, Karen panics, talking a couple steps towards Frank. She has no idea what to do to soothe him, or how to end the increasingly furious cries. This is not her area of expertise and while she loves kids, she prefers them old enough to tell her what their problems are. The only way she could know what is wrong with him is if she suddenly gets mind reading powers.

  
  
"Claire brought over some formula when she came to check him out, and she said that she can get me a stash," Frank is talking as he prepares a bottle and Karen stops on the edge of the kitchen, looking down at the baby before up at Frank. He is busy mixing in formula with the ease of man who has done this in his sleep. "I don't plan on keeping him forever, but I can't just put him in foster care." 

 

"Then what the hell are you going to do?" Karen demands, and when Frank turns to her with a prepared bottle, he's got a plan all ready to go. Then he sees how obviously uncomfortable she is, and his head tilts slightly, amusement crossing over his face. 

 

"You, uh, ever held a baby before ma'am?"

 

"Yes," Karen says defensively, even as it becomes more and more apparent that if she has, she's well out of practice. The baby squirms and Karen gasps, sure that she's going to drop him. In one long stride, Frank is there, one hand on the baby's head, the other on the small of her back. 

 

"Easy, easy, easy," he mutters softly. "Support his head. Get a good grip. Not gonna hurt him if you hold him a little tightly there Kar." 

 

"Can you take him?" Karen nearly pleads. She's faced down murderers and assassins and superheroes and villains and men so drunk on power they forgot consequences. But holding this baby terrifies her almost more than any of that. 

 

"No, you got him," Frank insists, backing away. Karen glares, feeling like she very much does not have this, and Frank gestures to the couch. "You wanna feed him?" 

 

"I--" Karen wants to fight about it. She wants to point on that not even a half hour ago, she was still at work and oblivious to the fact that Frank causes disruption and chaos on a daily basis in her life. But then she sighs, decides that this is not the hill she wants to die on, and goes to her leather chair. Frank follows, hovering slightly, and when Karen sinks down, his large, rough hands help arrange the baby on her lap. 

 

"See, there, practically a natural," he remarks idly and Karen wants to punch him on his scruffy jaw, because while she may a natural at some things, children have never been one. "You're just hungry, aren't you little man? Yeah? Big day for you." 

 

"Frank," Karen says softly, as Frank hands her the bottle. "Frank, you have to know that this is absolutely insane. You can't keep a baby here."

 

"Nah, not here," Frank agrees, rubbing the back of his head and this stinks so much like the way Karen wound up with three dogs that she narrows her eyes.

 

"Frank...."

 

"Tilt the bottle up so that he doesn't get a pocket of air," Frank advises, pointing to the bottle and Karen does as told. Frank disappears once again, off to the kitchen, and Karen wants to scream. How is she going to keep this little thing alive? She has no idea. She's not qualified for this is any way. This is not her area of expertise. She needs Frank here. "You hungry?" 

 

"I, uh, sure," she admits, and chances a look down at the bottle, fearful that she'll allow the baby one suck of air and kill him instantly. He is sucking on the bottle fiercely, but the hazel eyes that look up at her are soft and almost knowingly. Big. Trusting. Sweet. Like he understands her anxiety and is trying to tell her that this is okay. He is okay. They are going to be alright. 

 

"I was gonna text you and give you a heads up," Frank calls from the kitchen. "I thought you might want to know. But I couldn't be on my phone and have him with the dogs." 

 

"Warning might've been nice," Karen admits, as two small hazel eyes stare into hers. "He was a surprise and that's putting it lightly." 

 

"Yeah, well, it's not like I was prepared either," Frank counters, coming back with a sandwich. Karen shifts, getting ready to hand off the baby, before Frank pulls the coffee table over to her and sits atop it, holding the sandwich out for her to take a bite. Face flaming, Karen leans forward and takes a small corner in her mouth, tearing it away. Frank acts as if there is nothing strangely intimate about feeding her while she feeds a baby, nor the proximity of which this requires. 

 

"You're going to have to let them out eventually," Karen states, when Yankee moves from her frenzied scratches to low whimpers. 

 

"Yeah, I know. I was waitin' for you for this too," Frank gives her a little grin and Karen tenses. 

 

"Why?" 

 

"You hold onto him," Frank instructs. "I'll go get them one by one, see, and introduce them. Once they get his smell they'll be good. Just have to ease them into it, you know?"

 

"Sure," Karen replies, even though she does not know. She doesn't know in the slightest. Not for the first time, and likely not for the last, she wonders if there was a dog that was beloved by Lisa and Frank and Frankie and Maria. Frank helps her eat the rest of the sandwich, giving her instructions on how to mind the baby and the dogs, and something in Karen is twisting tighter and tighter, wrenching a hole in her heart. 

 

He's so good at this. He's so good at being a father. It's evidenced by the little touches he bestows upon the baby; a finger that trails across a forehead or down a cheek. Resting a large palm atop his head. And those touches extended to Karen as well, brushing her hand or arm, a hand that lingers behind her head for just a moment longer. It makes her whole body feel like it's on fire, and when he pads towards the bathroom to get the first of the dogs, Karen raises the back of her hand to her cheeks, trying to make the redness dissipate. 

 

"You ready?" Frank asks, as the little boy waves a hand and nearly hits the bottle. 

 

"I think?" Karen bites her lip. 

 

"It's gonna be fine, Kar," Frank reassures her and Karen wants to ask him how the hell he knows that, but instead she just stays still like Frank had said, and watches as he guides Sierra towards them. She's straining at her collar, trying to see what exactly it is that has her mother Karen so distracted and why her father Frank had to lock her in the bathroom for. Karen tenses as Sierra nears, but upon reaching her and the child, all Sierra does is take an enquiring sniff, look up at Frank, then trot off to the kitchen, nudging her food dish hopefully. 

 

"I got her food," Karen tells Frank, remembering that's why they're in this mess in the first place. 

 

"Oh, thanks," Frank replies, looking significantly impressed and Karen sighs. Her problems were so small not even fifteen minutes ago. "I'm gonna get Yankee and do her next." 

 

"Carefully," Karen says needlessly, and Frank throws her an amused look over his shoulder.

 

"Yeah, got it ma'am."

 

When he opens the door and scoops up the small dog, Karen can't help her amused smile. Yankee is practically vibrating; her whole body trembles. Yankee looks up at Karen, clearly pleading. One paw reaches for her, but Karen shakes her head.

  
  
"No, Yank," she says softly, as Frank kneels so that the dog can smell the baby. "I can't hold you right now."

  
  
"Well, she doesn't quite like that," Frank remarks, as Yankee sniffs, quivering. When Karen doesn't reach for her, she whines plaintively, looking up at Frank.  
  
  
  
"Don't be mad at me," Karen urges that dog, as the baby boy sucks the bottle down eagerly. "It was your dad who got us into this mess. Otherwise I'd be holding you right now."

 

  
"Alright, don't turn her against me," Frank protests, and sets Yankee down. The second her feet touch the floor, she launches herself back up on the arm rest, straining to get to Karen.

 

  
"No, no, no," Karen turns away from her and Yankee lays down, whimpering. "Oh, don't do that. I told you, it's his fault."

  
  
  
"She'll get over it," Frank promises and then pets Yankee. "I'm going to get Charlie."

 

  
"And if this little demon tries to bite the baby, then what?" Karen demands, jerking her head at Yankee.

  
  
  
"She's jealous, not vicious," Frank scoffs. "She'll be fine."

 

  
"And Charlie?" Karen asks, as Frank opens the bathroom door.

  
  
  
"I swear to god Kar, if you're starting that bullshit pitbull thing...."

  
  
  
"I'm not," she huffs, as Charlie bounds into view, Frank barely managing to hold her back. Karen tenses, sure that teeth will flash and a jaw will snap. Instead, Charlie's tail begins to wag frantically, and her nose begins twitch. To Karen's surprise, the first couple sniffs lead to a gentle lick from the puppy. The baby stirs but otherwise seems unbothered, sucking down the bottle. Charlie looks at Frank, whining plaintively. Frank chuckles.

 

"What, Charlie girl? What? Is that your baby?" He asks sweetly and Karen's fragile heart, already battered from the sight of Frank holding an infant, clenches all the tighter. "Is that your little man?"

 

"No, it's not," Karen mutters, as Charlie lays her head in Karen's lap, her nose pressed to the baby's butt. "We're not keeping him Frank. He's not a pet, he's a human."

 

"That's my point Kar," Frank says, too eagerly, and Karen looks skyward, reflecting on her choices. "He's got a family. We owe it to him - to them - to see if he can get back to them instead of foster care."

 

"His caseworker can do that," Karen argues, even though she can feel her convictions leeching out of her with every word. She knows this is a repeat of the dogs and that she'll crack eventually, but at least then it can be said she didn't go quietly.

 

"You know they're too busy to give a shit about some kid like him," Frank scoffs. "Besides, not like we can drop him off and explain where we got him from."

 

"So what's your plan here then?" Karen demands.

 

"Jones is gonna look into it," Frank admits. "She'd good at these kind of things."

 

"And in the meantime, what, we mind him?" Karen shifts, her arms growing tired from holding him. "We're going to go buy a crib and bottles and a sling?"

 

"Nah, we don't need that stuff," Frank dismisses. "I've got a couple sick days at work I can turn in. He can hang out with me."

 

"And the rest of the stuff?" Karen presses. "Bottles, diapers, clothes? He can't keep wearing your underwear."

 

"Not like they're dirty," Frank says, as if he's affronted and Karen shoots him a look. He grins and sinks to the ground, scratching up and down Charlie's spine. "I figured you could watch him for a minute and I'd run out and get stuff."

 

"Just leave me here?" Karen does her best not to sound panicked. "Alone? With him?"

 

"Yeah, I mean," Frank gestures to the baby. "He's fed, got a fresh diaper on, you just have to burp him and rock him till he goes to bed. It'll take a minute. You're fine, aren't you punk?" He takes the baby's hand and kisses it.

 

"No," Karen huffs, even as she knows he's talking to the baby. Frank grins, the sort of smile that makes his dark eyes sparkle, and Karen knows she's done. "But I'm starving, and I want Thai."

 

"Done and done," Frank promises, rising. Charlie doesn't move from her perch watching the baby carefully, but both Yankee and Sierra look up hopefully, like the attention will be returned to them. Frank gives them idle pats on his way out the door, and once he's gone, Karen is left alone with them and the still suckling baby.

 

"Wait, how the hell do I burp you?" Karen panics. She's only seen burping in movies and on TV shows, and usually for comedic effect. Will it be a volcano of spit up? She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She can handle this. She is a capable woman. She is smart and educated and most importantly, she has survived things far scarier than a baby. She can do this. Carefully, making sure that she keeps his head and the bottle secure, she pulls out her phone and holds down the center button. "How do you burp a baby?"

 

"I've found you 32 responses for how to burp a baby," her phone chimes back and Karen rolls her eyes.

 

"That one," she grumbles, jabbing the screen and staring down at the Wikihow intently. It seems fairly simple, and nothing she, a competent journalist and widely known keeper of Frank Castle, can't do. She reads through the instructions one more time before she looks down at the little boy in her arms. "Help me out here, okay? I'm a first timer."

 

When he finishes the bottle, Karen carefully eases him onto her shoulder and pats his back, terrified it's too hard and she'll break his spine, then nervous that he'll choke on his vomit when he doesn't burp immediately. She looks at Yankee, her snaggletooth face annoyed at the lack of petting, and then looks down at the baby. He's a handsome boy, with smooth skin a few shades darker than Frank, and hazel eyes that just manage to focus on her. Karen relaxes, just enough, and the moment she lets her guard down, he takes his opportunity and runs with it. Spit up oozes from his mouth, across her shoulder and down her collarbone. Karen manages not to shriek, but it's a near thing.

 

"I said take it easy," she accuses him, as he blinks at her, unbothered. "This is not easy. That was rough. You know I don't know what to do now and that's not fair." 

 

Karen looks at the spit-up helplessly then back down at the boy. She can't set him down, since she doesn't know how to, and even if she did, she has no idea where he might go. She looks at the dogs, from Sierra's apathetic face to Charlie's absolute devotion to Yankee's enragement. They offer no help or advice, so Karen takes a deep breath. She is a grown woman. She's survived assassins. She's survived a New York heat wave. She can do this.

 

Carefully, with delicate precision and as much grace as she can muster, she stands. For a second, she holds still, trying to make sure that she can still hold the baby. Then, once she's confident that she won't drop and break him, she begins to shuffle like a 98 year old invalid towards the bedroom. Carefully, carefully, carefully… Just a bit further. When she reaches the door to Frank's bedroom, she confronts another problem. Both her hands are being used to firmly clasp the baby securely to her chest and she has no idea how to let him go so that she can reach for the handle.

 

She stares at it intently, puzzling it out. She can try to use her feet. She could try to shoulder the door down, but she's sure that it will only hurt the baby if she attempts it. Palms sweaty, she attempts to shift the little boy and get a hand free, but the movement irks him and within a heartbeat, he begins wailing at full volume in her ear. Karen jumps, before looking at him in astonishment. His small face is becoming red, his cries nearly deafening, and Karen works to swallow the panic that's rising.

 

"Stop, stop, stop, you're fine, it's fine, stop crying," she pleads desperately, looking around frantically. A concerned Charlie has followed her, but neither of the other two dogs show her any sympathy. She stops her spiraling, takes a deep breath, and looks down at the blankets Sierra usually drags off the bed to snuggle in. She flinches and hopes like hell that Frank takes a long time coming back. Gingerly, she goes to put the little boy down in the makeshift nest, his wails unabated. The second she lets him go Charlie scoots past her and curls protectively around him, nosing his hand with her muzzle. Karen stands and makes sure that nothing will choke him, or perhaps fall on him, or even if the floor might collapse out from under them. Then she darts, as fast as she can, to the bedroom.

 

She yanks off her dirty work shirt, tossing it aside without a care. She and Frank have gotten into the habit of leaving clothes at the other's place, a measure that started as a 'just in case Charlie pees on me' or a precaution against 'Yankee tried to jump into a garbage dump and I got dirty getting her out'. But now it's spiraled into half of the time she's got the skirt she wants to wear at Frank's and she finds his dirty socks thrown in her laundry basket. It's a weird moment of cohabitation that strikes her as an uneasy sort of step towards something more.

 

Sometimes she dwells on it, thinking about what exactly it means or might imply, one day in the distant future, but today cannot be that sort of day. Right now she has a squalling child in the the living room who's fragile life rests utterly in her hands, so she yanks on the nearest shirt she can find and a pair of ratty old shorts she'd used to help Frank paint in, before darting back out into the living room.

 

Charlie has magically managed to calm him into quiet, but Karen can only stare in mounting dread. She now has to pick him back up and entertain him. How does one do that when not feeding? What do babies even like? Karen approaches him slowly, looking down at him with apprehension. He appears to not be bothered by the dog hair surrounding him, nor the fact that Charlie is softly licking his foot. He stares at Karen with his hazel eyes, quiet and all knowing. She kneels in front of him, expression strict.

 

"Alright, listen here little man. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'm pretty scared and I bet you are too. Just hang with me okay? Let's just be chill and hang out and everything will be alright," she mutters quietly, and he blinks. Charlie gives her a little woof, almost in approval, and Karen shakes her head wryly as she pulls her hair back into a low ponytail. "Fuck, even a dog is doing better than me."

 

She ends up sitting on the floor just staring at him. He stares back, before his gaze travels around the apartment. Anytime he kicks or waves a hand, Charlie raises her head before she's reassured he's alright. Karen isn't sure how long they end up sitting there, just sitting, but when Frank opens the door, she can't help but jump. It had been oddly peaceful. Both Sierra and Yankee scurry to greet Frank, but Karen and Charlie remain seated on the floor, watching him.

 

"You changed," he notes, and Karen sighs.

 

"I got spit-up all over me."

 

"Did you?" Frank raises an eyebrow as he sets bags on the counter. "He get it in your hair?"

 

"No," Karen reaches up and touches her hair, shuddering to imagine it filled with throw up.

 

"Just wait," Frank warns her with a grin, before spotting where she's left the baby. "Why's he, uh, in Sierra's bed?"

 

"I had to change," Karen says as if it should be obvious. "And the door to your bedroom was shut."

 

"And why's that mean he's looking like a chew toy now?" Frank continues to unpack diapers, formula, bottles, and clothes.

 

"Well I had to put him down somewhere and I didn't know where was safe," Karen says defensively and that stops Frank. He looks at her in astonishment, hand still hovering over a box of wipes.

 

"Why couldn't you just open the door and put him on the bed?"

 

"I didn't know if that was too dangerous," Karen tries to explain, cringing. In hindsight, it does seem crazy. But at the time she'd been filled with visions of her dropping him or him rolling off the bed or things that were even worse. Unrealistic perhaps, but he was more important than the bag of dog food she'd lugged around. 

 

"Kids aren't your thing, huh ma'am?" Frank smirks, opening the drawer for two forks.

 

"It's not like I'm bad with kids," Karen protests, her stomach rumbling as Frank digs out their takeout boxes. "I just…. I didn't want to hurt him. He's just a baby."

 

"Babies are durable little shits," Frank reveals, walking over and handing her a box before sitting on the floor beside her. Yankee and Sierra eye their food pleadingly. "I promise he's not going to break." 

 

"How do you know?" Karen asks before she can stop herself. Once the words are out of her mouth, she jams as much Thai food as she can in it, since that is a stupid and awful thing to say. He knows because he's done this. He raised two babies, probably fed them and changed diapers and fell asleep with them on his chest like he does with Yankee now. Of course Frank Castle, the man who loved being a father, saw a baby and thought only to protect it with everything he had. Karen prides herself on knowing Frank Castle better than most, and the second she thinks about it, the more she realizes it is the only thing that could possibly make sense. Frank is still, under it all, a father. A father without a family. 

 

"Lisa used to scare the shit out me," Frank says, as he rubs the little boy's belly and takes a bite of his spring roll. "I thought I was too big, too rough. Would never be able to get her to sleep or anything. But kids don't give a shit. All they care about is if you make them feel safe. All that matters." 

 

"Well it's not like I really know how to do that either," Karen remarks, almost joking, and Frank shoots her a look. "Half the time you tell me I can't even keep myself safe." 

 

"That is through your own stubbornness Karen Page," he retorts. "You want to be in danger, because you don't know when to quit." 

 

"You're gonna tell me that?" Karen raises an eyebrow and looks at the baby. "When was the last time I came home with something that could get us tossed into jail?" 

 

"Don't use him against me," Frank protests and Karen looks down at her food so that Frank won't see how she smiles. 

 

"Alright, what are we going to call him then?" She asks, once she has control over her face again. "We can't just keep calling him the baby or whatever. He needs a temporary name." 

 

"How about Alpha, or Bravo--" Frank starts and Karen glares at him until he chuckles and turns to the baby. "Fine, we won't do that with you. What's your name going to be, little man?" 

 

"Just something simple, like Bob or Bill," Karen declares, stabbing a bit of egg with her chopsticks. "We're not keeping him long enough to get attached Frank." 

 

"I could call you fun hater, but that's already taken by her," Frank tells the baby in a faux-conspiring tone. "No, you're not a fun hater, are you?"

 

"Frank," Karen sighs, feeling the true impact of the day washing over her. "Let's just name him something. If we're really going to go back to my apartment, we have to go soon."

 

"If you're tired, we can wait here for a night," Frank remarks, his dark eyes trained on her. Karen wants to protest, wants to tell him no or make a fuss, but instead she finds herself nodding.

 

"Yeah, alright. We should get him dressed then or something," she mutters, struggling to keep her eyes open and herself upright.  

 

"How's a bath sound, huh little man?" Frank asks the boy, before rubbing his head. "You remind me of a Marine buddy. I wanna call you Theo." 

 

"Theo?" Karen raises an eyebrow. 

 

"Yeah, Theo," Frank declares, like she knows what he means by it. "Theo, a short little punkass who didn't know when to quit. Fighter. Scrapper. You're a Theo, aren't you kid?" 

 

"Alright fine," Karen waves a hand, over this. Her nine hours of nonstop work, plus a cardio session this morning, and the fight with the dog food is catching up to her, and on top of it all, she and Frank still have to haul three dogs and an infant to her house, since Frank has decided for her that they'll be staying there. "We need to pack up Theo and the three musketeers and get to my place." 

 

"It's late, and he's gonna crash soon," Frank tells her, glancing at Theo. "We better just give him a bath and put him to bed here. I can take him over tomorrow." 

 

"Oh, hell no," Karen says hastily. "I've got time banked and I turned in two stories yesterday. Ellison has to give me time off. There is no way I am going to just leave you with an infant at home alone." 

 

"I know how to watch a baby Kar," he reminds her mildly and Karen wants to be annoyed at the jab at her babysitting skills, but she's too tired to fight back. 

 

"Yeah, and you're also responsible for getting us into this mess. So you'll be getting us back out. You can go talk to Jones and see how long it's going to take to get any information she can on him," Karen gestures to Theo, who simply blinks like he's getting sleepy. 

 

"Fine," Frank caves and scoops Theo up, leaving the scraps of his Thai food on the floor where Sierra can delightfully scavenge it. "Let's take a bath little man." 

 

"And then I can watch him and work from home and see what I can find," Karen adds, to drive home her point that she will not be a silent companion in the kidnapping of Theo. Frank looks over his shoulder with a smirk. 

 

"I'd like to see you try ma'am." 

 

Karen has a small heart attack when they get into the bathroom and Frank strips off his shirt and turns the water on. She can handle Frank half naked, but truly naked is a different story entirely. Thankfully, he's only filling up the bottom of the tub, checking to make sure it's not too hot, before starting to pull off Theo's makeshift outfit. Karen helps carefully, perched on the toilet, feeling more like a bother than anything else. Frank doesn't chide her; he thanks her before lowering Theo into the water. Karen is utterly unprepared for the wail that escapes him. 

 

"Whoa!" She jumps, while Frank laughs over the sound of the cries. "Is he okay?" 

 

"They don't like this part very much," Frank explains to her, gently swishing the water around Theo's head. "Most kids are usually a water baby or not. Lisa loved it. Frankie though? Kid thought he could roll in some dirt and call himself clean." 

 

"He seems more like he's in pain," Karen flinches as Theo manages to slip an octave higher. "Are you sure you're not hurting him?" 

 

"He's fine," Frank assures her, calmly wiping Theo down. "He's being dramatic. Drama, drama, drama. Yeah, it's tough, I know. World's a big, scary place, ain't it? But don't worry. Us against the world kid, you and me." 

 

There is something so tender in Frank's expression when he says it that Karen's whole world seems to turn, just a little bit. Every time Frank Castle reveals a little bit more of himself to her, it always take a second to adjust. To come back to the man she knows and add this facet to him, to see how it changes him and everything she seems to understand about him. It is usually just little things now, after it all. That he likes his coffee blacker than blacker, and so hot she wonders how it doesn't scald his throat. Or that he likes banana bread over lemon poppyseed. But this is something massive, something huge, and she's forgotten what it's like when he does this. When he shows her more of the man behind the skull. The big bad Punisher, who isn't big or bad at all. 

 

He means that, truly. He has known this baby for a couple hours, maybe a little more. Not enough to form a strong attachment to him, certainly. If Frank was caring for Theo out of a sense of duty, or nobleness, or simply because he knows better than anyone that most men in this lifestyle are not fit to deal with a cactus let alone a child, Karen would understand. But Frank loves Theo, fiercely. Utterly. He will die for him, kill for him. Take on the world for him. Without hesitation or question. And when Frank looks up at her with a smile and something so powerful lingering behind those dark eyes, Karen feels almost woozy. 

 

"Uh, how can I help now?" She asks, to set herself back to right and get away from the thoughts that perhaps Frank guards her just as ardently as he does Theo. 

 

"Towel?" Frank requests nicely. "Just lay it out for me and then I'll get him dry. I'll need a diaper and clothes after that." 

 

"Got it," Karen mummers and gets up to do so. Something to keep her hands busy will help keep her from falling into the daydream of how Frank would love a child of his own. He had a child of his own, two in fact, she reminds herself sternly, and with the way in which he lost them, he may never want children again. She keeps her thoughts focused on the task at hand and that only. She spreads the towel out, then goes to the kitchen where Frank had deposited the bags for Theo. She sorts through them until she finds a simple cotton onesie and some socks. She grasps them in her hand, startled at how small they are. 

 

"Kar, if you can step it up a notch, that'd be great..." Frank's voice drifts to her and Karen hastily grabs a few diapers before darting back to the bathroom. Frank has Theo wrapped in a blanket and his little face looks close to tears. His lip wobbles, and tears threaten. 

 

"Here--" Karen thrusts the supplies at Frank, who scoots past her and then lays Theo on the floor. 

 

"Thanks, ma'am."

 

"Alright then," Karen sighs, sitting down and crossing her arms. Frank glances up, Theo's fist still wrapped around his thumb.

 

"Alright what?"

 

"Alright, I'll call in sick to work this week, or however long it takes to get him back to his family," Karen relents and she sees the grin on Frank's face before he ducks his head, kissing the cheeks of Theo. "And we can take him over to my apartment. Not like we're getting any sleep here tonight."

 

"Are you sure? Packing up him and us and those three--" Frank jerks a thumb at the dogs, all of whom still seem bewildered as to what is going on. "It's not going to be easy."

 

"What is with you?" Karen mutters and Frank gives a gruff little chuckle before raising his gaze to hers. Brown and smooth, with not a hint of any anger in them. Karen so rarely sees him in a state of what might be called contentment, and it lifts her lips into a smile, unbidden.

 

"Which do you want, little monster or all three?" Frank asks and Karen looks between Theo, who's lower lip wobbles with just a glance and her angry dogs.

 

"The three, easily."

 

Frank isn't kidding how long it's going to take them to get out of the apartment. Between trying to pack Frank's bag and keep Sierra from panicking that her father is leaving her, making sure they have the favorite treats and toys to keep Yankee appeased, gathering all the random necessities that Karen's taken to leaving scattered around the apartment, and shoving extra diapers and bottles into a duffle bag, late night has set in. Karen stands at the door with the three leashed dogs, watching as Frank slings on a backpack, duffle bag, and scoops up Theo. He gives her a grin that seems too boyish for the Frank she knows, too happy.

 

"Ready?" He asks, as she hefts the bag on her own back. Charlie is straining to get back to Frank, while the other two eagerly await their walk.

 

"Now or never," she answers, opening the door. Frank slips past her, a little ungraceful with his layers, and Karen locks his apartment up, thinking of how much simpler her life had been before she walked into it today. Then they set off down the stairs, Karen first so that Frank's legs won't get tangled. The second they emerge into the fresh night air, they all surge forward, even Charlie, eager to see what the streets of New York offer them tonight.

 

Karen laughs slightly, letting them tug her for a moment before reigning them in. Despite the late hour, it's the first time all day that the temperature is dropping instead of rising, and doors to businesses are thrown up, beckoning them inside with neon and florescent lights. Chatter drifts out, and music too. Open windows give them a taste of what the inhabitants are having for dinner, and moments of insight into the lives inside. Karen wonders what she and Frank might look like to any curious people watchers, with their three dogs and the bundle that's Theo. Idiot first time parents, overpacked for an evening stroll, who forgot a stroller? Homeless vagabonds, just trying to find shelter?

 

Or somewhere out there might someone with a more malicious intent be watching? Any time she walks beside Frank, she thinks about it. She wonders if someone knows, if someone is following. If every corner and alley is filled with grasping hands who mean to drag them into the darkness forever? She hates that she thinks like this, and hates even more that she can't blame Frank for it. This has been her reality for so long, and Frank provides nothing but comfort against it. Still, when she looks back and sees Theo, her heart clenches. She has to protect him.

 

If the people of New York are off-put by the strangeness of their group, it doesn't show on any of the faces of people rushing past. One older lady smiles when Yankee brazenly goes after her groceries, and Sierra cowers when a drunken man stumbles from a bar, shouting. Otherwise their business goes on, and Karen and Frank push through towards her home, only a couple blocks away. The dogs lead the way, anxious and excited to get back home. Karen checks every few steps to make sure Frank is still following her, and doesn't stop until they're in the lobby, safe beneath the dim glow. Karen heads up the stairs, hushing the dogs when they eagerly try to get into the apartment, scratching at her door.

 

"Karen? Is that you?" A reedy voice asks, and the door to the apartment across the hall opens. Karen, fumbling with her keys, turns with a tired smile.

 

"Hi Mrs. Gorman. Yeah, it's just me."

 

"Oh, dear, look at you," the elderly woman steps into the hall, inspecting Karen's load. Between the dogs, bags, and Frank, they fill the space.

 

"Mrs. Gorman, good to see you," Frank says politely, bouncing slightly to keep Theo quiet. When she realizes what's beneath the blanket, her old, rheumy eyes go wide. "This is, uh, my nephew."

 

"Nephew?" She blinks, and Karen prays she goes with it. "Babysitting for the week then?"

 

"Something like that," Karen says with forced levity, getting the door unlocked and letting the leashes go so the dogs can bound inside eagerly. "Promise he'll be quiet."

 

"No, no problem my dears," Mrs. Gorman waves a hand, her veins visible beneath her paper thin skin. "I am a deft hand at babies, so you be sure to come over here with any questions you might have, alright?"

 

"Will do," Frank promises, tipping his head before he walks into the apartment. Karen locks the door behind him, breathing a little easier now in her space. "Shit, I bet Theo weighs more than her."

 

"Likely," Karen agrees, "but either way, she's not watching him. If anyone tries to get to them, what's she going to do, stop them with her rock solid oatmeal raisin cookies?"

 

"You could make them into throwing stars," Frank suggests before quieting at the look Karen gives him.

 

"Alright, what do we need for him?" She asks, trying to clean up before Frank sees. These past few months she's spent as much time at his apartment as her own, and her cleaning schedule has suffered for it.

 

"Just some blankets and stuff," Frank declares, slinging off the bags and giving Sierra a comforting pat before she goes off to her bed by the vent. "We can make him a little nest, he'll be snug as a bug."

 

"Snug as a bug," Karen echoes in disbelief and Frank chuckles, using one hand to open the bag and pull diapers out.

 

"Yeah, Maria use to tell the kids that. She'd tuck them in their blankets and tell them that's what they were. I could never quite get it right," he says wistfully and Karen wants to reach out to him, but it never seems to be the right time, so she just gives him a little smile and goes on to get things ready for bed.

 

Sierra sticks to her bed by the vent, watching them with sad eyes. Usually at this time of the night Frank would be rolling around on the floor with her, scratching her belly and crooning old classics. Instead he's holding the baby, setting out supplies and occasionally muttering something to soothe Theo. Charlie shadows Frank's every move, patient and steadfast. Yankee has assumed her perch atop Karen's favorite chair, now indifferent to anything that isn't sleep. Karen passes behind Frank, gently touching his side so that he knows she there before making hey way to her bedroom. 

 

She turns down the bed, making sure that she doesn't have any errant underwear or crumbs between her sheets. Then she opens her closet, pulling her spare bedding off the upper shelf. She's not sure what Frank will make of it but it seems to be the best option, short of someone staying up and holding Theo all night long. She plumps the pillows once before she walks back out to the living room, a bone deep fatigue starting to set in. 

 

"What else do we need?" She asks and Frank trades her Theo for the blankets. Karen stands stiffly, unsure of what to do, but thankfully Theo seems to be of the same mind as her and is dozing. Not even the transfer into Karen's unprepared arms awakens him. 

 

"We'll just put him down here," Frank decides, setting a cushion from the couch down on the floor near Karen's bed. She stands in the doorway, unsure of what's going on, as Frank explains to her that a baby shouldn't have too many blankets, and do better on slightly firm surfaces, least they accidentally suffocate, but Karen only hears about every third word. The rest of her attention is devoted to Theo and the fact that tonight, she'll have to be a mother. 

 

It's not that Karen doesn't know what good mother's are like. She had a good mother, once upon a time long ago. And women from work have kids and a job and make it work. Even back during her law firm days with Matt and Foggy, she saw mother's drop everything to help their children. Good mothers exist, and all Karen has to do is keep Theo alive for however long the duration of his visit lasts. But it's the fact that she'll be doing it with Frank that adds an extra element of stress and nerves to it. Will he compare her to Maria? Judge her for not knowing what to do, or not being a natural? She doesn't want to think about why any of it matters, because the fact of the matter is that it shouldn't. That if it were any other man, it wouldn't. But it's Frank, so of course it does. 

 

"Is that all?" Karen asks, eyeing Frank's work when he stands, satisfied. It's a couch cushion with a sheet secured snugly around it. Frank has arranged blankets around it, precaution in case Theo rolls off and down four inches to the floor. 

 

"Yes ma'am," Frank eases Theo away from her and goes to lay him down. Theo fusses for a moment before he settles and goes still, nose twitching in his sleep. 

 

"Does he need a blanket or something?" Karen wonders, watching as Theo's little fist unclenches. 

 

"Nah," Frank waves a hand. "It's warm enough out, and he'll just get tangled in it anyways." 

 

"How do you know all this?" Karen almost jokes, thinking about the fact that Frank seems to have taken a class or something to be this caught up with parenting techniques. 

 

"I'm a worrier," he admits, as he guides her out of the bedroom. Charlie sits outside the shut door, whining. "I read every damn book there was before Lisa. Thought that would help me prepare."

 

"Did it?" Karen asks, before she can help herself and Frank chuckles as he goes to clean up Theo's stuff. 

 

"Absolutely not." 

 

"Reassuring," Karen mutters under her breath, but she's too exhausted to think about anything other than bed and goes to brush her teeth. She and Frank get ready in a comfortable silence, occasionally poking their heads into the bedroom to make sure that Theo remains asleep. The fact that Frank will need to sleep in bed with her goes unspoken, since the couch lacks a cushion, and when they're both finally ready, Karen opens the door and tiptoes towards the bed. Yankee darts between her legs, going for her customary perch at Karen's feet, and Charlie takes up residence near Theo, one eye on the baby and the other on Frank, who takes the side of the bed closer to Theo.

 

"Alright, if I don't wake up and it's my turn, kick me awake," Frank advises and Karen makes a fuss out of getting her pillows in order so that Frank doesn't see the blush that covers both her cheeks. When she's done, Frank has rolled onto his side and has his eyes shut. Karen eases herself down gently, pulling the light blanket cup over her shoulder and glancing at the gentle rise and fall of Frank's shoulders. She closes her eyes, sure that she won't be able to sleep with Frank, Theo, Charlie, and Yankee to worry over, but moments later, she's fast asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two will be up next week, so look for that, and if you are so inclined to leave me a review, i would love that - or come check me out on tumblr, i want more kastle friends there
> 
> y'all are lovely thank you for reading


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i seriously love you all so much the reviews for this are so wonderful and amazing i cannot thank you all for the support.
> 
> so without further ado, part two -

Sunlight surprises her, slapping her full in the face. She feels like she hasn't slept the whole night through. She's somehow more exhausted than she was before she laid down, but the day is here, and since her bed lacks any dogs, babies, or Frank, she assumes the rest of the apartment has embraced it. She rises, yawning tremendously, going to find her phone so that she can call in. She ambles into the kitchen, following the aroma of the black, black coffee Frank alone enjoys. A sweeter cup usually awaits her after he's brewed his own, but Karen will forgive him if he's behind this morning. 

 

"Hey," he greets her, trying to crack an egg one handed, Theo occupying the other. Karen smiles and goes to take what she's more familiar with, the bowl and egg. 

 

"How'd you sleep?" She asks, with a teasing lilt to her voice and he gives her a sheepish look, like he knows what she asking after. 

 

"Pretty good, after we had another bottle at 4 am and then a little nap after." 

 

"Little nap?" Karen raises an eyebrow, trying to decide if they'll do omelets or breakfast sandwiches before deciding on easier omelets. "You woke me up with the sound of your people." 

 

"My people?" Frank asks with confusion and Karen tweaks his nose when she passes him to get peppers and mushrooms out of the fridge. 

 

"You always snore, or did that start after you started letting that thing get snapped every ten days?" 

 

"Oh," Frank scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking down at Theo like he'll be backup. "It is not that bad." 

 

"It is," Karen protests. "I would suggest reconstructive surgery, but not until I know you're going to take care of it." 

 

"Yeah, yeah, alright," Frank mutters, jostling Theo slightly so he can pour himself a cup of coffee. "You staying with us today then?" 

 

"Yes," Karen states, narrowly avoiding slicing her thumb open. "I thought you could use help." 

 

"I don't need it," Frank's hand stays her next chop and he gives her a look when she goes to wave him off. "But the help is nice. Now you take him before you lose a finger and I have to take care of you and the kid." 

 

"Fine," Karen huffs, accepting Theo with more grace than before. "Is he, uh, okay?" 

 

"Fed, changed, calm, content, yes," Frank lists off, going to dice the onion with flair. "You just keep holding him, he's okay. Don't think he likes the separation thing right now." 

 

"I'm sure you don't," Karen whispers to Theo, thinking of the circumstances that have brought him to them. "Which, speaking of, you need to work on getting him back to wherever it is he's going. Call Jones. Or Foggy if you need it, he's got friends in the--"

 

"No Foggy," Frank declares and Karen resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead going to give Sierra her morning kiss. "This has to be kept quiet." 

 

"Obviously," Karen tries to not snap at him. "But it's not like we're going to go parading him through Central Park. If Jones needs more help, then maybe...."

 

"She won't need help," Frank says confidently. "Just give her some time, alright?" 

 

"Fine," Karen relents, going for her work bag. "I better call into work then and tell them I'm using all that vacation."

 

"Like you'd use it for anything else," Frank smirks and Karen makes a face at him even as she allows the jab to ring true. No family, a few friends. What else does she have, if not Frank and his strays he brings to her doorstep?

 

She's lucky when the phone rings and Ellison answers without a huffy greeting. Karen briefly relays the situation to him, omitting key details - a friend is having family difficulties and Karen is one of the few trusted to step in. Ellison allows it, barely, ordering her to turn her notes over to another reporter so that her work might still be finished. Karen does so in ill grace, but Frank makes her coffee in that time, and it eases the transition some. Once they've both eaten, taking turns holding Theo, and finished the coffee, Karen looks out at the streets of New York before back at Frank. 

 

"Now what?" She asks and Frank gives a little shrug, setting aside the binder that Karen had been using to store her notes for the newest stories she writes. He'd been perusing at his whimsy, and Karen wonders what criminals will end up dead because of it. 

 

"What would you like to do?" He turns the question back on her and Karen has to chuckle. 

 

"I don't know, what do people usually do when they end up taking care of a possibly fugitive child?" 

 

"Movies," Frank decides, clapping his hands. "I think movies. I'll pick, I'm the expert." 

 

"That so?" Karen watches as he goes to put the couch back in order, to the delight of the dogs. 

 

"You ever flew overseas with 40 other guys and no privacy? Laptop, headphones, and a dozen good movies, that's the way to do it." 

 

"I'll take your word," Karen tells him, and Frank laughs. 

 

They do spend most of the day on the couch, Theo between the two of them depending on who he seems to want, and a list of movies on the screen. Karen falls into the easy sort of bickering she has with Frank, where they tease and joke and challenge each other in a way that speaks to the utter ease they have with one another. The dogs drift in and out of the nest they've made, never going too far when they realize there are snacks involved. Frank orders them sushi for lunch and Karen retrieves it, feeling slightly on edge as she does. There is a part of her brain that reminds her, no matter how fun this may be, that Theo is not their's, and whoever comes for him may be dangerous. 

 

Frank naps with Theo while Karen takes the opportunity to clean her apartment, occasionally drifting back to the couch. She let's herself run a hand over Frank's cheeks to feel the stubble, then over Theo's smooth skin just to feel the contrast and allow herself a moment with them. By the time the sun is setting again, it seems as though they've done nothing, but Karen can't remember the last time something felt so right. She's just reheating old pizza when Frank comes up behind her, holding Theo. 

 

"So you, uh, ever want one of these?" He asks, in a tone that strives just a breath too far off casual. Karen turns back to the microwave so Frank can't see her panic. 

 

"What, a baby?" She asks, pretending to be very busy with the simple task. 

 

"Yeah," Frank mutters, kissing Theo's temple as he watches Karen. 

 

"I mean, sure, who hasn't?" Karen busies her hands by opening the fridge to find them beers, then going to pop the tops off. "But my career is chaos and I can't afford to just take days off when stuff like this happens all the time. It's career or kids you know?" 

 

"Yeah, especially in this town," Frank agrees and Karen gives him a tight smile when she hands him a beer. The excuse is thin, and well worn. Career women don't want kids, and Karen has played into that, every time that the topic has come up. There are so many like minded women around her that no one has ever questioned her. 

 

"Besides, it's not like I'm any good with them," she attempts to joke lightheartedly and Frank raises his eyebrows, as Karen makes a face at Theo. He turns and hides his face in Frank's neck, so Karen looks up at him, her point made. 

 

"Oh, that's nothing," Frank dismisses, giving Theo a little jiggle. "Lisa use to scream bloody murder the first time I came home from deployment. Maria said it was because she was too little, she didn't remember who I was, but you don't get to think you're bad with kids till your own won't come to you." 

 

"Oh, Frank, I...." Karen trails off, thinking about what it must've been like for Frank and Maria, parents so young, and Frank gone so frequently. "I can't imagine." 

 

"She got better as she grew up. Taught Frankie not to be so confused. Made it easier to come and go. Till they grew up a little," Frank explains, as the microwave dings. "Then it turns out they hate it even more." 

 

"I'm sure it was never easy," Karen pulls the pizza from the microwave and hands him a plate. "For them or for you." 

 

"Nah, but we got through it," Frank broods and Karen offers to take Theo so that he can eat. "You're better with kids than you think Kar. You're just not use to them." 

 

"You think?" Karen looks at him in surprise. 

 

"Yeah, I can tell. You're just a little stiff. Need to loosen up, trust that you're okay. You won't drop them, I promise," he teases and Karen bounces Theo, giving him a smile. 

 

"I'm not scared of dropping you," Karen tells him, and he simply blinks. 

 

"Then what are you scared of?" Frank asks her and Karen thinks of a hundred things she could say. Him. Loneliness. Failure. The future. The past. Her past, coming to catch up with her. Anything and everything. Karen has spent almost her entire life running scared, and she's never looked back at her demons. She stares at Theo, trying to think of an answer that will satisfy Frank without revealing everything. 

 

"Keeping him safe," she whispers, and Frank chews the crust, his deep eyes steady on her. 

 

"That's why you've got me," he reminds her and Karen's whole heart squeezes. 

 

* * *

 

 

The second night is a little easier, and this time Karen even masters the art of letting Theo do what Frank calls 'self soothing', where she let's Theo cry himself to sleep no matter how much anxiety it gives her that she's doing something wrong. Frank sleeps through it all, drooling and occasionally grunting or muttering in his sleep. Karen likes it best when he rolls towards her, and she can see the softness in his face while he is unconscious.

 

They spend most of the day in the apartment again, Karen cleaning and working while Frank plays with Theo or the dogs, unbothered by the slow nature of the day. If this had been any other life, Karen thinks, this might be their Sunday's, lazy and unhurried. But instead it is just a normal Thursday, and they are not some family from Staton Island, and Theo is not their child. Karen keeps reminding herself of that, even as she lays with Theo on her chest and Frank croons softly along to music in the kitchen, making something spicy.

 

The next day, however, shatters any illusions of domestic bliss. Theo is fussy, wanting to be held tightly then screaming to be passed off to either Karen or Frank. Neither of them know how to soothe him, and Karen wonders during one trip to cry in the bathroom where Frank can’t see, if he knows that they plan on giving him up. If he can sense that their love might be conditional. If he misses his real parents, now dead.

 

On top of Theo’s short temper, the dogs seem to be doing stir crazy as well. Yankee lays atop Karen’s keyboard on her laptop during Theo’s short nap, preventing Karen from doing even the slightest bit of work. Sierra nearly trips Frank several times during her desperate attempts to engage him in play, and the last time she does it, Frank bellows at her. Sierra cowers in the closet for the next hour, despite Frank cooing and promising her it was only because he was holding Theo.

 

Even Charlie, who up until this moment has been as devoted a doggie big sister as they could ask for, seems to getting antsy. She whines and looks out the window desperately, lowly woofing when a passerby gets too close for her liking. Karen pulls her hair back in a messy braid and makes an executive decision.

 

“We’re going on a you know what,” she announces and Frank looks up from where he’s making a bottle for Theo.

 

“Yeah?” He glances at the dogs. “I was just thinking they kinda need it.”

 

“Yes, we’re doing it,” Karen says firmly. “Except we don’t have a stroller.”

 

“Nah, I got something even better,” Frank tells her, and then shows her how to fashion a sling from a sheet, explaining to her that this was Maria’s preferred way of keeping her hands free when the kids were small. He mostly used it on deployments to pack extra snacks, he confesses, and Karen allows herself a laugh. Laughing feels good. It feels easy again.

 

Karen feeds Theo while Frank gets the leashes and harnesses sorted. All the dogs know what the devices mean, and Karen’s sure that with all their pent up energy they’ll go nuts when they see what’s planned. As is, Frank has to have each dog come into the bedroom to get situated one at a time or risk being mauled. It takes what seems like ages, but then they’re all ready, and Theo is snuggled into Karen’s chest and Frank’s being half dragged from the apartment to the elevator.

 

“You going to be alright with those two?” Karen asks him, eyeing the dogs as they descend. Sierra and Charlie are quivering with anticipation, eagerly looking at the door. Yankee is indignant to be usurped yet again by the baby, and sits haughty at the end of her leash that Karen holds.

 

“Yeah, we’re gonna be great, aren’t we guys?” Frank twitches the leashes and Charlie’s tail increases wagging to warp speed.

 

“Let me know if you need any help,” Karen reminds him and he runs a gentle hand over Theo’s head.

 

“Yeah, and you too with this guy.”

 

Out onto the street they go, Sierra and Charlie both at the ends of their leads, trying to sniff everything and everyone they pass by. Karen and Frank follow, Karen using one hand to shield Theo’s head as though whoever is after him might jump from the shadows to pluck him from Karen’s care. She doesn’t let herself keep thinking about their image as a little family, how domestic this all is. Or at least, she doesn’t let herself think about it too much.

 

The evening is nice, and their walk is long. Yankee begins to flag on her short legs, and Frank tucks her in with Theo, ignoring Karen’s protests that it’s a terrible idea. After an initial hostile reaction, Yankee settles in quite well, and for the first time all day, Theo seems content. Karen, usually on edge for all the hidden dangers of the city around them, relaxes around Frank, and eagerly discusses the local eateries and delis with him, protesting who makes the best pizza with gusto.

 

“We might want to head for home,” Karen says reluctantly, when the sun has long set and the lights around them begin to hum and burn bright.

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Frank agrees, as Sierra stops to smell a particular ripe garbage bin. “Hopefully we wore these guys out enough, right?”

 

“I think this guy is pretty done,” Karen remarks, as Theo’s face smoothes out in sleep. “How are we going to keep him this way?”

 

“Heard those things are pretty comfy to sleep in,” Frank jokes, and Karen gives him a stern look. He smirks and tugs Sierra away.

 

“You should lay him down,” Karen muses, petting Charlie as she bounds past. “You’re better at it. I usually jostle him, and then he’s up again.”

 

“Nah, everyone does that,” Frank reassures her. “Kids are freaky like that. Almost like they got a little sensor on them, right? Wake up whenever you even think about putting them down.”

 

“You can just tell me I’m bad with kids,” Karen says, with a lopsided smile. “I won’t be offended, I promise.”

 

“Not bad, just…. Inexperienced,” Frank declares. “You’re gonna be a great mom someday, Kar. You’re all heart, remember?”

 

“Yeah,” she mutters, but she’s thinking about how she’ll never get a chance to be a mother, not when the only man she’s ever imagined a future with will refuse her. She wonders about just blurting it out, asking if he’d ever want a second shot at being a father. If he could ever bear to hold a child again after losing two of his own, and to love them without the pain and fear. But Karen Page knows when to push Frank Castle, and now is not the time. So she simply heads home with him and their dogs and their adopted baby, and resolves to keep silent.

 

Frank makes her put Theo down, and to Karen’s surprise he doesn’t pitch a fit. He stays sleeping, and Charlie flops down next to him, tired but content. Frank gets them beers to celebrate, and Karen turns on the shitty late night shows they love to mock so much, curling with on the couch with Sierra and Yankee. Karen begins to nod off before she even realizes what’s happening, and the last thing she remembers is Frank’s strong arms around her, carrying her off to bed.

 

Karen wakes up in the middle of the night, whole body vibrating. Something is wrong. She can tell something is wrong. Years of living alone in New York, hunted and stalked, has fine-tuned her ability to sense danger before it comes. Something is wrong, and she hums with tension as her eyes adjust to the darkness. Beside her, Frank is rolling over, and looking at her sleepily. The moment he sees her sitting upright he mirrors her, at the ready instantly. His head turns, like he can sniff out the danger as well. He touches her hand before going to get his gun, strapped to the bottom of the bedside table. Karen wants to grab hers, but she knows what she needs to do, so she eases out of bed and towards Theo.

 

To her relief, he doesn't cry when she scoops him up, and she holds him tightly as Frank steps towards her bedroom door. Yankee sleeps on, dead to the world after their walk, but both Sierra and Charlie lift their heads, wondering what has set their owners off. Karen shushes them as Frank pushes the door open, enough that he can slip through but not far enough that it squeaks. Karen watches, in the shadows, Theo clasped to her, dogs at her feet.

 

Frank stands in the kitchen, gun aimed at the door. There's some scuffling outside that Karen can hear when she's strains, and Frank glances back to see that she's still half hidden. She nods, seeing the sternness in his face, and the relief that runs through her is for the fact that, for once, she is safe. She has Frank, and he will always protect her. He hefts the gun, finger tightening around the trigger, before three soft knocks on the door makes both he and Karen exhale.

 

"Who is it?" Karen hisses, stepping out from behind the door as Frank lowers the gun and goes to the peephole.

 

"Jones," he says, with some slight relief, undoing the set of locks he'd installed not two weeks after Karen had moved into the place.

 

"Sit," Karen softly orders to both the dogs, who obey, with dislike. Frank opens the door and Jessica Jones stands in the low light of the hallway, squinting into the darkness.

 

"Oh shit, did I wake you up?"

 

"What time is it?" Frank mutters, dragging a hand over his face as he steps aside to let her in. The gun hangs limp by his side, and for the most, Jones ignores it.

 

"Like 2, 2:30ish. I forget that other people keep normal sleeping schedules," Jones admits, and Frank flips on the lights. Karen goes to make coffee or grab beers or something, just desperate to keep her hands busy. Jones gives her what looks like an attempt at a smile, noticing the still dozing Theo on her chest.

 

"What did you find?" Frank drops the gun into the bowl that usually holds Karen's mail, keys, and other nonsense, pets Sierra's head, and comes to take Theo so that Karen can put the pot of coffee on.

 

"About the little guy?" Jones clarifies and Frank nods. "At first, nothing. You'd think that people would talk more about the kind of shit that went down, but it was like it never happened."

 

"And is that a good or bad thing?" Karen asks quietly, as she brews the strong stuff she knows Frank likes so much.

 

"I didn't know for sure either," Jones admits, as Frank settles Theo down onto the pile of pillows and blankets, Charlie going back to her post by his feet. "I wasn't sure if they were all dead or if there was something else, but eventually someone talked, and I figured it out…."

 

Karen listens, absentmindedly, as Jones lays out a complicated story, full of twists, the Chinese mafia, a Russian sex trafficking ring, and more. Part of her knows she should be listening better, taking notes to sniff out a story when she actually goes back to work, but she's so exhausted it's all she can do to pour three cups of coffee and set them down on the table.

 

"And you think they'll be good to him?" Frank questions Jones, and Karen blinks, looking between the two of them, having clearly missed something.

 

"They're family, aren't they?"

 

"Who?" Karen blurts out, then hushes when Frank and Jones both turn to look at her.

 

"Aunt and uncle. In Michigan," Jones repeats slowly, looking at Karen like she's a little dumb.

 

"I just…." Karen trails off, glancing at Theo. He's still fast asleep, unbothered by lights, noise, or Charlie's breath tickling his feet. "I want to make sure he'll be okay."

 

"We will, Kar," Frank assures her, rubbing her knee. If Jones notices their intimacy, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she tells them more about the aunt and uncle, and about how she's been in contact with them. She's done background checks and they look clean, and she thinks that they'll do well with the baby. Karen mumbles some lie, picks up Theo, mutters an excuse about bed, and goes back to the bedroom. 

 

She can't help but cradle him close, a lump rising up in her throat. It seems silly, to feel so protective over him when it wasn't like she was ever under the impression she would get to keep him. She isn't sure she ever even wanted to keep him, what with work and the sheer logistical headache of raising a kid with a man she pines after and yet will never have. She's not sure if Theo would bring them together or tear them apart, but there's a tiny part of her now that's screaming that she should try. Karen holds Theo close to her and lets the tears come, bewildered by their appearance. 

 

Jones's departure and Frank's subsequent reentry to the bedroom is heralded by Sierra, slinking through the door. Karen hears the quiet clatter as he hits lights and nearly trips over something, swearing under his breath. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, she's wiped her cheeks dry, though her puffy eyes will linger.

 

"Sorry," she feels the need to apologize, sitting there with Theo held tight to her. Frank gives her a lopsided smile, sitting onto the bed next to her.

 

"Don't be," he says gently, reaching a hand out and stroking Theo's head. "I might cry with you."

 

"Please," Karen sniffles, trying to keep an impassive face. "You don't cry."

 

"Cry plenty, just not when you can see," Frank tells her, without meeting her gaze, and Karen wants to press, but instead she's quiet.

 

"Do you promise that he's going somewhere safe?" She whispers, voicing her fear after a long moment, and Frank chuckles.

 

"Do you really think I'd let him go anywhere else?"

 

"No," Karen admits reluctantly, arms still tight around him. "I just… how can we know?"

 

"Jones does good work, and she wouldn't come to us if she didn't feel like he would be safe. They're good people Kar, have a little house on a lake, no kids of their own. Jones is going to reach out, see if they knew that the sister was in trouble, that she had a son. If they are okay with it, we'll figure out a way to get him to them."

 

"I feel like an idiot," Karen admits. "I know it's safer for him there but I just…."

 

"You'll miss him," Frank nods in agreement. "Even if you were pretty pissed when I brought him home."

 

"I was, wasn't I?" Karen gives a little chuckle. "I didn't think we'd end up here. I didn't think that I'd like him so much."

 

"Kids are like that. They worm themselves under your skin and before you know it, you love the little shits," Frank muses. "Doesn't surprise me a bit, with you."

 

"What do you mean?" Karen looks at him in confusion before Frank shrugs, dropping his gaze back to Theo.

 

"You're good with him. I thought you might want some of your own."

 

"I…." Karen stops herself, floundering, but her emotions and mild exhaustion seem to catch up to her, because she finishes her sentence with, "I don't think I would unless it was with the right person."

 

"Understandable," Frank murmurs and Karen keeps her gaze fixed on Yankee, snoozing away blissfully.

 

"I just wouldn't know how to keep them safe. And Theo, the only reason I even sleep at night is because you're here and you have the gun and there's someone else who can make sure that he stays safe. What if they don't have that there? What If he doesn't have someone there who does that for him?" Tears are running, unchecked, down her cheeks now. "What if they can't protect him?"

 

"Hey now Kar, c'mere," Frank orders, pulling her close. "Alright, that's enough. Let it out."

 

"Sorry it's stupid," Karen tries to apologize but he hushes her, rocking her. She leans into him and he tucks her head under his chin, swaying back and forth.

 

"It's not, it's not. It's fine, Kar, it's fine."

 

"What did I think was going to happen?" She wonders aloud with a little laugh. "We were going to do this together? He was going to be ours? It was going to be possible for us to be like this, forever? I knew Frank, I knew that you would never want this again, but now that he has to go, I can't help it."

 

"Can't help what?" Frank's voice sounds tentative, but Karen takes a deep breath and reigns herself in. No more spilling secrets out.

 

"Being silly. I'm sorry," she tells him, instead of admitting that she has built up an entire life for them in her head, an entire world of them together, the only person she trusts.

 

"Karen," Frank softly grabs her chin, turning it so that she is forced to look up at him. "Tell me. Please."

 

"You'd never want this again," she whispers. "Not the wife, the kids, the family. And that's okay, it's okay. But he's safe and you're safe and that's what matters."

 

"What do you mean?" He questions, his dark eyes firmly affixed to hers. Theo stirring in her arms doesn't distract him, nor does the snores of Yankee. His whole focus is on her, eyebrows pinched together in a confusion that makes Karen feel like she's on a tight rope high above a lot of fire.

 

"Who else would it be, Frank?" Her voice cracks on the last word, and a flash of emotions run a wild gamut across his face. Disbelief. Anger. Bewilderment. Unsure. Joy. Then he settles into an odd, closed expression, like he's holding her at a distance.

 

"What do you mean, Karen?"

 

"Who else?" Karen looks to the ceiling, trying to will the tears to stop. "Who else would protect them? Keep them safe? It's not like I would ever… I can't ever… It's you Frank, it'd be you, but I know you. And I have made my peace with it."

 

"Kar - ma'am - I - me?" He struggles with words, and Karen keeps blinking away the tears, wondering just how this is going to implode their cozy little world. If it'll break them apart, force them into splitting up the dogs and apartments, awkwardly returning clothes and tools to each other in silence, unable to bridge the gap that she's ripped into being now. "Karen, you want…. Something…. With me?"

 

"Of course," Karen says, holding back a watery chuckle. "I only feel safe when I'm with you."

 

"And you think that I don't want a family again?" Frank sounds like he's been struck over the head.

 

"You can't replace the family you had before," Karen says, half to herself and half to him. She knows what it's like, to seek people out that will fill a gap in your heart. The way Foggy's easy smile and laughter reminded her so much of Kevin, and Matt's quiet snark and sass had as well. "I don't want to make you feel like I would ever try."

 

"Karen, I know you wouldn't. I know that," Frank squeezes her close. "You gave me my family back. You gave me them back, you'd never try to replace them."

 

"Maybe not," she takes a deep, shuddering breath. "But it's not what you want."

 

"How would you know that?" Frank asks her softly and Karen turns to look at him, her turn to be baffled. "Didn't you think about how the only reason why I took Theo is was because I knew we could do it together?"

 

"I'm a shit fake mother," Karen reminds him, heart thumping in her chest so hard it feels like it may burst through.

 

"Nah, you're all heart. And that's all he - we - need," Frank's smile is boyish, and it warms every bit of Karen, deep to her core.

 

"I don't know where we go from here," Karen whispers, looking down at Theo, who seems to have slept through a monumental shift in Karen's life.

 

"We take him home, to people to love him, and we figure it out," Frank shrugs, simple as creating a grocery list. Karen knows it won't be easy. Traumas so complete they're mountains stand between them and happiness. But maybe, just maybe, if they cross them together, it'll be alright. She rises to go put Theo down, and when she turns back to Frank, already sliding down into bed and waiting for her, she thinks of the old proverb, that a journey must begin with the first step. So she takes a deep breath, and steps towards him.

 

* * *

 

 

The road trip to Michigan with a baby, Frank, and three dogs costs Karen Page all her vacation days, most of her goodwill with her boss and coworkers, and about all of her sanity, but it is worth it for all that she gains. They take the trip slowly, not just because they have to stop every hour or so for the dogs or to feed Theo or because Frank spots some roadside attraction and drags an unwilling Karen to go see it. They go slow because sometimes Karen holds Theo and sinks back against Frank so that he can wrap his arms around her, lips pressed to her temple. Or so that in the early mornings, when they're driving, Frank can strum a guitar in the passenger and sing rock songs like lullabies. Crossing mountains, Karen thinks. One step, one mile, one gentle touch at a time.

 

By the time they reach the little house at the end of a gravel road, with cheery trim around the windows and two eager faces on the porch, Karen has made her peace with leaving Theo. When she sees the relief and tears in his aunt and uncles' eyes, she knows he's in the right place. So she drops him off, tells them about how he likes his bathes warm, and lets Charlie say her goodbye with hardly any tears. That is, until she and Frank are back in a car with no car seat, and suddenly it occurs to her that they're alone once more, and the dam opens. Frank holds her hands, lets her cry it out, and then gives her a gentle kiss. They'll go home, Karen reassures herself as Frank holds onto her hand. Maybe there will come a time with a family. Maybe not. All she knows, as Yankee turns around in her lap for a snooze, is that as long as she's beside Frank, then she can handle anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will there be a part three to this? maybe. who knows? Jon with kids kills me.
> 
> otherwise i've got another couple kastle stories in the works, and I love getting to chat with you all. thank you for the love and support my dears. hugs!


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